Corn Field Demon
by Yvetta
Summary: Sam and Dean find themselves the target of an angry goddess and hurry to stop her before she kills more young people.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. These characters belong to smarter, richer people who are actually making money off them.

Also, I made up the town here. If there's really a place called Carlsburg, North Dakota, I'm sorry. It's totally coincidence.

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Jamie Marsden shivered in the cold wind. "Brady, I don't feel comfortable out here," she said, her quivering voice betrayed the true fear she was feeling.

"Come on, James," Brady Gooch replied with a mean smile. "It's just a dare, and we'll be out of here in a few minutes. I can't pass up a dare."

"But why in the world would they want us to come through this stupid field, anyway? There are plenty of other corn fields in this stupid town."

"Yeah, but people didn't die in those," her friend said. "Besides, it's not that big of deal. I hunt, remember? I'll know if an animal is coming at us, so nothing will happen to us."

"Brady, have you ever even _seen_ a scary movie? This is the perfect situation for something really horrible and graphic and murderous to happen to us. Bad things happen in corn fields on dark nights, especially when people have died in them recently."

"You are so paranoid," Brady laughed. "And you need to watch less TV."

"It just seems so stereotypical," she went on, ignoring him. "The guy always brings the girl out into some creepy place in the middle of the night, tries to take advantage of her, and they both die. That's how it always works."

"Well," Brady said, getting an evil glint in his eye. "Let's not disappoint."

He grabbed Jamie and pulled her close to him, leaning in to kiss her. She struggled away, disturbed by his behaviour. Just as she yelled for help, a dark shadow dropped between them – a very tangible shadow. Jamie screamed as she was gently pushed back and then turned to run, ignoring the sinking feeling she had building in her stomach. She heard Brady yell, then a disgusting choking sound followed. But still, she didn't look back. She kept running until she got to the other side, where she ripped out her cell phone and called for help.

A short distance away, Brady's lifeless body lay on the cold ground, blood seeping into the dirt. The creature looked after Jamie as she ran, smiling that she got away.

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"Here's a new one," Dean said from the table he was sitting at, reading a newspaper. Sam looked up impatiently from the laptop to listen to his brother. "Here in Carlsburg, North Dakota, four young men have died in the last month."

There was a moment as Sam waited for more, but nothing came. "Crying shame, Dean," he said as he went back to his article.

"I just think it might be worth looking into."

"Would you care to expand on that, Dean, or do you want me to make up something paranormal so we can have something to do?"

"Look, it just seems unusual that it's young _men_. Let's face it, serial killers and demons and spirits usually go after girls, maybe because they're easier to take down."

Sam sighed. "And how did these unfortunate guys die?"

"It says that their throats were slit . . ."

"Pleasant," Sam said.

" . . . by an animal with two claws," Dean continued, undeterred by his brother's mocking remarks.

"What?"

"There are always two claw marks across the throat. They thought it might be someone slitting their throat twice, but the cuts are parallel and even and they bleed in a way that proves whoever – or whatever – did them both at the same time."

"Maybe they just have a two-pronged knife," Same suggested, not really believing himself.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm sure that's it. A crazy old woman decided to start murdering young guys by cutting their throats with a two-pronged knife." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Why would you say a crazy old woman?"

"Who else would want to kill a bunch of handsome little devils like myself?"

Now Sam rolled his eyes. "What I'm asking is if there's anything in the article tying a woman to the deaths."

"I know what you're asking, Sam. I'm not stupid."

"Don't get me started."

"The article doesn't say anything about an old woman. That was my friendly addition."

"_Two claws_?" Sam repeated after a moment. "That's a bit odd. What kind of creature that might rip out the throats of unfortunate humans has two claws?"

Dean smiled his mischievous "I won" smile. "Care to go have a look?" he asked innocently.

"Fine," Sam snapped, but he was grinning. "Let's go see if we can help the poor handsome young men in distress."

"Don't say it like that, Sam," Dean said, cringing. "It's painful when you say it like that."

Sam just smiled as he followed his brother out the door and toward the car.

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Hours later, both boys were tired and frustrated. They had talked to Brady Gooch's mother, but she had been more emotionally hysterical than helpful. They tried talking to Jamie Marsden, but she didn't want to see any visitors. All they got out of their research was the basic story that they had gotten from Dean's article earlier. They decided to head to the field.

"So people are dying in these corn fields, throat mysteriously slashed by something with only two claws," Sam said to recap as they drove to the scene of the murders. He was talking more to himself than his brother, trying to work things out in his mind.

"_Men_ are dying in these corn fields," Dean corrected. "And they always have a girl with them right before they do."

"That's so _weird_," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it," the elder Winchester agreed. "So let's have a look and save the rest of the guys in this sad town."

They pulled up next to the desired field and got out. "Here we go," Sam said as he headed into the tall green stalks.

"You know, generally I thought we try to do our research in the daylight," Sam muttered as he looked at the setting sun. "It's easier to poke around looking for supernatural things if we can see what we're doing."

Dean didn't answer, and Sam shook his head. It was just like Dean to ignore him. Then again, they were both already upset, and Sam didn't want another fight to break out like the ones they had been having all-too-often lately.

"Look, Dean," he said, turning around.

He stopped short.

"Dean?"

He listened to the silence of dusk, more than a little concerned. What had happened to his brother? And why weren't there even birds singing? Shouldn't there be SOME noise? He tried yelling for Dean, but heard nothing. He decided to call. But Dean didn't answer his phone. What was going on?

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Dean followed Sam for a few minutes, listening to his brother's soft rant. Yeah, it _was_ getting dark, and he was already tired and hungry. When was the last time they had eaten? "Sam," he began. "We should go get something to eat. We can do this in the morning."

He swallowed as he realised he couldn't hear his brother's footsteps. "Sam?"

"Sam?" He turned in a circle, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed the younger Winchester. Sam's voicemail picked up.

Just great. He was hungry, he was alone, and it was officially dark.

Turning in one more circle, he realised something else.

Now he was also lost.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stopped short, deciding he definitely needed to know where he was at and where he was going before he did anything else. He tried to orient himself, but the corn stalks were grown higher than his height and he couldn't see anything but rows and rows of them. He might as well have been stuck in a maze. He was just pondering his horrible luck (or stupidity, in reality, but he wasn't about to admit that) when he heard something crunch. It sounded like a dead leaf under a foot. Ears pricking up to hear more, Dean lowered himself into a crouch and slid as far into the corn itself as he could so he wouldn't be too noticeable.

He relaxed slightly when, a few minutes later, he couldn't hear anything. He never thought he'd be so grateful for the silence. Then, he comforted himself with the thought that men only died in these fields when they had a girl with them. Since he was alone, he more than likely wouldn't become a victim any time soon.

Now smiling and a lot more at ease, he concentrated on figuring out how to find his brother and get some dinner. He stepped out into the row and started to walk confidently forward, still not sure exactly which direction he was headed.

That was when he heard another footstep . . . right behind him.

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Sam was grumbling to himself as he headed back to the car. Dean had probably gotten hungry and tired and just left him there. His brother had been kind of edgy the last couple of weeks. He was just so unpredictable! Lucky for Sam, he was endowed with an innate sense of direction and knew where the car was. It took him less than ten minutes to make it back to the Impala. He left the corn field and went straight to the passenger door, expecting Dean to already be inside. He got slightly confused when the door was locked and he couldn't get in. He was concerned when he realised Dean wasn't in the car – or anywhere nearby, for that matter. He was close to panic when he tried his brother's cell phone one more time and no one answered. What had happened to Dean?

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Dean's eyes were wide and his heart was pounding unnaturally as he slowly turned around, his arms in the air in a non-threatening manner. He almost choked in relief when he saw Jamie Marsden standing behind him, her arms folded across her chest as though she was cold.

"Jamie?" he asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Martin, I . . . " she began in a meek voice, "I know you had been asking questions but didn't get very many answers about what happened here. I was afraid you'd come here to see for yourself."

"Well, you were right," Dean answered with his characteristic grin. "My brother and I came out here just a little while ago to try to figure out what goes on in these fields."

"You have to leave here," she said in a tone that caused chills to go up Dean's spine. That was strange, considering he dealt with creepy things all the time.

"I will, as soon as I find my brother," he responded. "We'll come back in the day time."

"No," she snapped, suddenly panicking. "You can't come back. Bad things happen here. People _die_ here."

"I know," he said patiently. "And Sam and I are trying to stop it. That's why we're here."

"I thought you two were reporters," Jamie said, confusing coming across her face.

_Whoops,_ Dean thought. _That was a stupid mistake_. "We are," he answered. "We're trying to find out what's going on here so it can be stopped."

"What was your name again?" she asked suspiciously.

"Dean," he said without a second thought.

"Dean?" she repeated dumbly. "Your name is Dean Martin?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, no," Jamie replied, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"That's okay," Dean said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find my brother."

"You'll just get hurt," she insisted. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Aren't you afraid to be out here?"

"No," she said. "This may sound strange, but it seemed like whoever did this was trying to protect me, not hurt me."

"How do you figure?" Dean asked, his interest totally piqued.

"He kind of pushed me out of the way and turned on Brady," she said, her voice cracking as emotion flooded her soul with the memory. "He never even tried to stop me when I ran."

"He?" Dean prodded gently.

"The man that did it."

"Did you see him?"

Jamie shook her head. "It was so dark. All I saw was a dark shadow of a man. I didn't see skin or eyes or anything that might be useful."

"Well, that's okay," Dean said encouragingly. "Maybe you'll remember more later on."

"I doubt I'll . . ." she trailed off.

"What?"

"I thought I heard something," she whispered.

Dean listened intently to the silent corn fields and then he, too, heard another footstep.

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Sam had left seven messages on Dean's cell phone. Seven. He was going for an eighth when he looked around on the dark road and noticed a car about a hundred yards back from the Impala. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he'd seen it before. But he knew for sure that it hadn't been there when he and Dean had pulled up. That meant that someone else was now in the corn field with Dean – assuming Dean was still in the corn field.

He nearly had a heart attack when he remembered where he had seen the car: in the driveway at Jamie Marsden's house. Jamie was in the field with Dean.

And this monster only killed men who were with a young woman.

"Dean!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, not sure whether it would be better for him to go in after his bother or to wait outside.

In the end, he didn't have to make a decision on it; he felt a familiar pain between his eyes as a vision built up. "Not now," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Now is really not a good time." Sadly, that didn't matter, because the vision hit with full force, and he sagged against the car as the horrifying sight played out before him.

_Jamie Marsden was screaming, running toward the road with everything she had. Dean started to follow her, but was snatched back and thrown unmercifully to the ground. A dark shadow leaned over him, stretching two clawed fingers toward his throat. With a vicious swipe, blood spilled around the elder Winchester's neck and chest, the silence broken only by the sounds of his choking on his own blood. Within seconds, though, it was all over. His sightless eyes stared ahead, where the dark creature stood watching. A black cloak covered the creature, making it nearly invisible in the darkness. Then the creature turned its head, as if sensing another person watching the scene. Black eye sockets stood out in stark contrast to the whiteness of the face. An evil grin spread across visible teeth. It wasn't a creature at all._

_It was a skeleton._

Sam gasped as the vision left him, and he put a hand up to steady his throbbing head. His heart pounded in his chest. The skeleton thing surprised him quite a bit, but could help later when they were trying to figure out what they were fighting and how to kill it. For now, though, he had to save his brother. He carelessly took off into the corn, shouting his brother's name repeatedly so that either Dean or Jamie might answer him and let him know where they were.

He had only been running for a few seconds when he heard a woman's shriek. Focusing on his running and not the implications of the scream, he ran toward the sound, praying he wasn't too late to save his brother.

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Author's Note: CHECK ME OUT!! I'm so proud of myself to get another chapter up. And I'm updating my other story, as well, so that makes TWO chapters in ONE day! Thanks for the supportive reviews (to those who reviewed, of course). And to those who didn't submit a review but are still stumbling through my drivel, thanks for your support, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam burst through a row of corn without slowing to consider what he was doing. He suddenly found himself in the midst of complete chaos – most of which was caused by him. In retrospect, if a dark creature hadn't been trying to slit his brother's throat, the whole situation would have seemed a little comical.

The younger Winchester saw his brother on the ground in front of him, and, because of his speed, knew he wouldn't be able to stop before stepping on Dean. He tried to leap over, and ended up crashing headfirst into the thing that was getting ready to kill his brother. It was surprisingly corporeal and somewhat bony, and he tried to get out of the way but still couldn't slow himself down, especially since he was in mid-air. The two of them hit the ground hard, Sam landing on top of the supernatural killer and rolling away as quickly as possible. The hood had come away, leaving the skeleton painfully obvious in the dark night. Dean was trying to get to his feet, and carelessly rolled to his knees, his feet coming out and colliding with something solid. He later discovered that it was Sam, who tripped over the offending feet and fell to the ground again. Apologetically, Dean pulled himself out of the way and continued trying to get up. Sam, meanwhile, had rolled out of the way again and was halfway to his feet when the skeleton creature attacked him. He flew backwards . . . into his finally-standing brother and all three crashed to the ground again.

"Get off me," Dean growled, now angry.

"You think I'm not trying?" Sam snapped back.

Dean shoved his brother hard, not with malice, but hoping he could at least free himself enough to pull out his gun.

Sam took their enemy back with him, hitting the ground a fourth time, and managed to get out of the way while Dean began shooting.

"What good is a gun going to do against a skeleton?" Sam grumbled aloud, watching as the skeleton didn't even move at the bullets. He finally managed to climb to his feet without getting pounded back into the ground.

"Then how do we kill it, Sherlock?" Dean returned, no longer wasting his ammunition but standing warily as the creature eyed him.

"I haven't figured that part out yet," the younger brother admitted.

"Then how do we get away?"

"I, uh, haven't figured that part out yet, either."

"Sam, I suggest you try using that geeky brain of yours before we both die," Dean said, watching the skeleton slowly approaching them. The two hunters were slowly backing away.

Just at the last possible moment, when Dean was surely about to be murdered, another figure came between him and his killer. He looked in surprise at Jamie, who faced the creature but was trembling from fear.

"Jamie?" he asked softly.

"Don't hurt him," she said with a cracking voice to the skeleton, ignoring Dean. "Leave them both alone."

"She's being remarkably calm about all of this," Sam said from the side.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sammy, she's the only reason we're not dead yet."

"I didn't say she wasn't."

"She's still standing here," Jamie muttered quietly, silencing both brothers. The skeleton was now backing away from Jamie, clearly disturbed.

"Why is it leaving?" Dean whispered.

"I have no idea," Sam said.

"I know you don't. I was talking to _her_," he said, indicating Jamie.

"Why would I know if you don't?" she asked, starting to relax now that the creature had backed into the corn and disappeared.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Dean replied.

"I thought you two knew what you were doing," she said, turning around to look at them.

Sam snorted in amusement as Dean sputtered, "Of course we do. We were just caught a bit off guard."

"What exactly do you mean when you say you know what you're doing?" Jamie asked with an eyebrow raised.

"We actually don't," Sam put in. "At least, not this time. Generally we have some idea."

"What is it you do, then?"

Dean looked around the corn field, and, in spite of having dealt with ghosts and demons and poltergeists for most of his life, felt a chill run up and down his spine. "We'd love to tell you, but can we please continue this conversation somewhere else?"

"You seem to be pretty safe when you're with me," Jamie said. "You don't have to be scared."

"I'm not scared; I'm nervous. There's a difference," Dean snapped defensively.

"Look, we love the safe feeling we get when we're with you," Sam said, mostly sarcastically, "But we'd really just like to get away from this field. We don't enjoy hanging around where things are or have been trying to kill us."

Jamie said nothing, trying to decide if Sam had been insulting her with the first half of his comment. Finally, giving up, she turned and walked toward the cars, her arms folded around her body as though she were cold.

"Great, now you've upset her, Sammy," Dean grumbled behind her retreating form. "We may have lost the only connection we had to finding out how to kill this thing. No wonder you have terrible luck with women." Dean thought he may have taken that comment too far, when Jessica suddenly popped into his head, but Sam didn't even blink twice at it.

"Look who's talking," the younger Winchester griped back. "You haven't had a date in a while, yourself."

Sam thought he heard a snicker from Jamie in front of them, but she didn't slow down or say anything, so he couldn't be sure.

There was silence the rest of the way to the cars. When they arrived at the road, Jamie turned to them and, without actually looking at them, snapped, "Call me in the morning." Then she turned, got in her car, and drove away without another word.

Sam licked his lips, grateful she at least wasn't telling them to get out of the town. Dean glanced at his watch. "Technically, it's morning now," he said, a futile attempt at joking.

Glaring at his brother, Sam collapsed into the car. His adrenalin had now worn off, and his body was now reminding him of the number of times he had been pounded into the ground. He shut his eyes and leaned against the window of the car as Dean started driving back to their hotel.

"Sam?" Dean asked softly, pulling his brother from the restless slumber he was in.

"Let me sleep until we get to the room," Sam grumbled.

"We're here," the elder Winchester replied. Sam suddenly realised that the voice was coming from his right, not his left, where Dean was supposed to be. Eyes snapping open, he saw Dean crouching down next to him, passenger door wide open.

"Oh," Sam said, not finding anything more intelligent to say. He pulled himself out of the car and followed Dean into the room, dropping onto his bed.

"You can have first shower since you saved my life," Dean offered in nearly a whisper. It was the closest thing to a thanks that he would extend, and his brother knew it.

Sam smiled but didn't move. "Not a chance in the world that I'm getting off this bed before morning," he mumbled in return.

Sam felt much better in the morning. He dragged himself up early to shower and get to work on researching the skeleton that had been attacking last night. By the time Dean woke up, the younger brother was ready to answer all questions except for one.

"I know what it is," he said brightly as Dean groggily sat up in his bed.

"What?" Dean asked, shaking his head to clear it.

"It was a Tzitzimeme," Sam said.

"Gesundheit," Dean offered, his mind still unable to process what his brother was saying to him.

"It's a minion of a Mesoamerican goddess," Sam continued with a smile. "Apparently, this goddess likes to protect women from he evils of men. She is a skeleton and wears human hearts around her neck. She comes around every eclipse and sometimes other random periods just to torment humanity."

"Oooookaaaaay," Dean said slowly, finally understanding some of what he was hearing. "So how do we kill it?"

That was the one question Sam had yet to figure out. "Well, generally it doesn't stay in one place and focus its efforts so much."

"Sam –"

"I mean, it's a goddess of Mesoamerica. By all logic, it shouldn't even be here!"

"Sam –"

"It's actually only supposed to come out every 52 years, anyway."

"SAM!" Dean shouted.

The younger Winchester innocently looked over. "Yes?"

"How do we kill it?" Dean repeated slowly and patiently.

"I haven't got a clue," Sam answered. "Maybe if we just tell everyone to stay out of the corn fields at night or without a female escort, it will just go away."

"_Maybe_?"

"Look, Dean, I've been doing research for a few hours now, and I haven't got the slightest idea how to kill it. Iron bullets, wooden stakes, burning remains . . . it could be anything!"

"Well, you're the smart one. You'll figure it out. I'm going to go get breakfast." Dean crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom before leaving the room to get food.

Sam sighed. He had no idea how to kill this thing. "How do you kill a _god_?" he asked aloud.

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Note: I know, there's no cliffhanger here. I actually wanted to try my hand at something a little lighter than my usual repertoire. Comments are welcome and encouraged, in fact. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: Sorry this has taken so long. I really have no excuse other than writer's block. But I think I'm getting over it now so I should be able to finish my other stories, as well. Thanks for your support!

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Dean returned to the room with breakfast about twenty minutes later. He dropped the bag off fast food on the desk and looked over to where Sam was staring at the laptop. He wasn't moving or blinking or even thinking, from the looks of it.

"Hey, geek boy," Dean said slowly, not wanting to spook his brother.

Nothing.

"Sam?" he called again, moving to right next to the computer.

Still nothing.

"Hey," he said, while snapping his fingers in front of his brother's face.

Sam blinked at that, shaking his head quickly to clear it. "Huh? What?" he asked.

"You okay?"

"Sure; why wouldn't I be?"

"Dude, you were not on this planet. Did you find anything?"

Sam took a deep breath before replying. "Yeah, but you're not going to like it."

"I already don't like it, Sam. Spit it out."

"Well, what we saw wasn't actually the goddess. It was her minion. She apparently has a lot of them come out to do her bidding. She never comes out herself."

Dean waited, but there was a long pause. "So?"

"We can't kill her, Dean. We wouldn't know where to find her. There aren't any human remains to salt and burn; there's no way to shoot her; there isn't anything left over that used to belong to her; she doesn't even have a group of followers. There is no way to kill her."

Dean's eyes widened considerably. "So how do we stop this from happening?"

Sam rolled his eyes in return. "We could always go back to my earlier suggestion of asking people to not go out in the fields without an escort."

"Sam, that's so not funny."

"It's not supposed to be!" the younger Winchester shouted back. "I'm being serious. I have no idea what to do."

Dean dropped onto his bed and both sat in silent thought. At least Dean now understand why Sam had been in that almost comatose state when he'd returned from getting breakfast.

"Can we kill the minions?" Dean finally questioned. "I mean, maybe that would stop them at least here."

"Should be relatively easy," Sam said, shrugging. "Salt and burn."

"Where do we find their remains?"

"Dean, it was a skeleton. They _are_ the remains. We just salt it and burn it to death."

The elder hunter stood abruptly. "Then get ready. We have to go kill it."

"We can't just run out to kill it. We don't know how many there are or how it will help."

"I have to do something, Sam. I hate standing around like I'm useless."

Sam nodded slowly, standing. "Let's at least have breakfast first," he said as his stomach growled.

Dean managed a smile at that and sat down again.

----------------------

Scarcely an hour later, the two boys were driving back to the field. Dean's music was off, which worried Sam quite a bit. When had Dean ever not wanted his music?

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's a simple salt and burn, Sammy. It's nothing."

Sam nodded. "We don't even know if it will come out in the day time."

"Dude, what's up?" Dean snapped. "It's just a salt and burn. You act like we're both going to die. You nervous?"

"No, but I'm just saying that I like to know what we're up against. We don't know how many there will be or how to kill their master."

"We've gone into more dangerous situations on far less."

"I know," Sam acquiesced. "That doesn't make me like it more."

"You've gotta learn to relax, Sammy," Dean said, his characteristic devil-may-care grin creeping across his face. "You're going to have a miserable life if you can't look on the bright side of things."

"I was doomed to have a miserable life the moment I told Dad that I was afraid of the thing under my bed and he gave me a .45."

"See? That's the kind of attitude I'm talking about, Sam. Miserable."

The younger brother could only shake his head in response as the two pulled up next to the corn field. Dean stretched his muscles for a few seconds after exiting the car and went straight for the trunk. He pulled out a shotgun and tossed it to his brother, who caught it with one arm, and got one for himself. Locking up his precious Impala, he turned to Sam and smiled.

"Ready?"

"Did I mention that I think this is a bad idea?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"I don't think so," Dean shot back. "All this time I thought you were ecstatic about it."

"Please, kill me now," Sam muttered as he followed Dean into the tall stalks. "You know," he continued thoughtfully after a moment of walking, "we should have at least called Jamie. She could have kept the thing at bay until we finished killing it."

"We don't want it kept at bay, Sammy. We have to get close to it in order to salt and burn it, you know."

"It might not come out in the day."

"You mentioned that already."

The youngest Winchester sighed his frustration and continued to walk behind his brother. He didn't notice Dean stop until after bumping into his back. Looking up in surprise, he followed Dean's gaze to the skeleton, which stood menacingly in front of him.

"Uh, I think it's safe to say they come out in the day, Sammy," Dean said softly.

"It's Sam," the other retorted, not having anything better to say.

The creature took one step forward, and the brothers responded with one step back. "That was ineffective," Dean said.

"Thanks for that."

Suddenly, Dean stiffened. "Wait a minute. Why are we behaving like this? It's not like we haven't killed supernatural scary things before. Let's just get it over with."

"Fine," Sam answered.

The elder hunter pursed his lips in thought before saying, "I'll distract it while you salt and burn it." Without waiting for a response, he charged the skeleton, meeting the surprised undead creature in the middle and sending them both to the ground. Sam had whipped out the salt and was trying to figure out how to salt it if his brother was on top of it. But Dean rolled out of the way and Sam was able to throw the salt down. He was reaching for the kerosene when the thing kicked out, knocking Dean to the ground just as it was getting up. The lid was off the container and Sam was ready to douse it, but stopped in horror when he realised that his brother was at the skeleton's mercy. It was bending over the older brother, one clawed hand out and ready to slit his throat. Abandoning his task, Sam dove at it.

The kerosene can flew from his hand, and the liquid spilled over both Winchesters and the skeleton as it tumbled to the ground. Sam hit it just as it was bringing its hand forward. He felt a lancing pain across his shoulder and then everything went black as his head slammed into the bony skeleton.

Dean got to his feet in a flash, noting the blood seeping out of his brother's shirt. He could keep a spirit busy. He could salt and burn bones. But keeping the bones busy while trying to salt and burn them was another matter altogether. At least Sam had successfully completed what he thought would be the hardest part of the job. He jerked his lighter out of his jacket pocket, flicking his thumb to ignite the flame. Holding it up to the skeleton, which had since recovered, he managed a smile as the fire began to spread. Then he realised there was a problem.

His clothes were also lighting on fire. And so were Sam's.

And the bones were still coming after him, madder than ever.


	5. Chapter 5

The unpleasant stench of burning flesh assaulted Sam's nose before his brain received the message that it was his own flesh burning. He jerked awake, rolling to put himself out before he contemplated his surroundings. In fact, he didn't have any desire to remember where he was or why he was there, until he heard Dean grunt in pain. His eyes snapped open, taking in the scene before him.

Generally, a salt-and-burn was simple because the bones were dug up and then they just passively lay there while they were burned. This was obviously no simple salt-and-burn. The bones, while salted and burning, were still attacking. The black robe that it had been wearing was long gone and the stark whiteness of the bones looked even more eerie. Dean had been shoved to the ground and was in the middle of his fourth time of almost having his throat cut.

"Hey," Sam shouted, hoping to get the creature's attention. Luckily, it worked. He didn't have the energy to get up and rescue his brother, so he hoped his distraction would give them the time they needed for the bones to finish burning. The skeleton whirled around, seeing a helpless victim and rushing toward it.

Dean sat up in horror, only then remembering that he, too, was on fire. He quickly rolled on the dirt to extinguish the flames, and tried to get to his feet. But his muscles were aching and his skin was singed in so many places that his limbs refused to support him. He sat and watched as the thing they were fighting neared his brother, who didn't seem to be in any better shape. What a pair they made.

"Over here," he called just as the clawed hand was going for Sam's throat. The creature whirled again, looked down at Sam, and looked back at Dean. Now it was confused; it couldn't seem to make up its mind between the two Winchesters. Sam took this moment to speed up the burning process by lighting a match from his pocket and throwing it at the skeleton's head. It shrieked in agony and dropped back, finally withering away as it melted.

Both hunters sat in that position for a few minutes, breathing hard and trying to get control over their aching muscles again. It was Sam who broke the silence.

"Tell me," he said as he sat up, "What was the strategic purpose in lighting me on fire?"

Dean snorted, managing a small grin. "It wasn't _my_ incompetence that left us in this position," he snarled good-naturedly. "It was yours. You couldn't seem to get the kerosene in the right place."

"Only because I was too busy saving your life for the third time in two days," the younger Winchester returned.

"Yeah, well, you owe me for the last twenty years that I spent saving yours."

Sam smiled and rolled to his hands and knees. He grabbed hold of a stalk of corn and used it as leverage to haul himself up. Looking over, Dean had also managed to crawl back to his feet.

"We have to get out of here right now," Sam said suddenly as a thought crossed his mind.

"What's your hurry? Afraid another evil skeleton minion thing is going to come get you?" Dean asked, not resisting the barb his brother presented.

"No, but we just lit something on fire in the middle of a corn field," Sam said. "The corn may not have burned . . . which is something of a miracle in itself – but no doubt someone will have seen smoke rising up."

"Crap," Dean answered as he realised Sam's point. He turned toward the road and said, "Let's go then."

They could hear sirens nearing them just as they made it to the car. Hopping inside with an agility that neither of them thought they possessed at that moment, they took off.

Back at the motel, Dean stitched up Sam's shoulder and then announced that he deserved the shower first for all his hard work, and left his brother on the bed. Sam grumbled at the now-closed bathroom door, but wasn't actually angry. He had already expected that Dean would do something like that.

But as he was left alone with his thoughts, he wondered what good they had managed to do. They may have killed one skeleton – a feat which nearly killed both of them, but how many more were there? How could they stop a goddess? Would this goddess just send out more of her minions once they left?

The questions clouded his mind, and he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to shut them out of his head. Instead of that, though, what he got was a familiar pain localizing somewhere behind his eyes.

"Not a vision," he muttered aloud. "Please, not now."

Of course, the visions had never listened to him; why would they start now? He put his hand over his eyes as the images hit him full force.

_Dean was in a convenience store, having just filled up the Impala with fuel in the middle of the night. He casually looked through the candy, finally deciding to just grab a handful of chocolate to go with the drinks he was already holding and take everything to the cashier. He didn't notice the man in the dark clothes behind him. After all, they had just finished a hunt, and he was far too tired to be alert for something evil stalking him._

_He grabbed his purchases and started to head for the car, but the man behind him stopped him before he got that far, dragging him to the darkest side of the building. Dean, caught totally off guard, was unprepared for the blow that rendered him unconscious and therefore didn't try to resist as a clawed hand reached out to slit his throat._

_DEAN!_

Sam sat straight up, gasping at what he had just seen. He looked at the still-closed bathroom door, wondering what to do now. In the end, he opted to avoid telling Dean, knowing it wouldn't do any good. He would just have to make sure he went inside every store with his brother. He laid back down, not wanting to close his eyes for fear the mental images would return. But in the end, exhaustion won out, and the nightmares began again the second he fell asleep. He didn't hear Dean come out of the bathroom with a knowing look of sympathy, having heard the familiar whimpers of a vision. He didn't notice his older brother cover him up with a blanket. Nor did he hear Dean sit down to keep watch.

"If your vision was anything like my nightmare last night, we're on the same page, little brother," Dean said softly. "But we'll find a way to kill it. Don't worry."

He would not be sleeping tonight.

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NOTE: One of my fantastic reviewers asked what season this story takes place in. I can't say that I had given it much thought up until now. I guess it would be season two because I'm writing under the assumption that John isn't around. I also think I'm done with this story (or it's done with me; I can't decide which). Nasty ending, eh? But if anyone has an opinion they'd like to share or some suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Once again, thanks for reading!


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